The Fox and the Hound
by The Monsters Closet
Summary: There was no way stealth and intelligence could ever compete with strength and weaponry, right? Just like there was no way a small red-head from District 5 could compete with a certain Career Tribute with a spear. What happens when two worlds collide? (Foxface x Marvel, slight Clato and Glimmer X Marvel) Please review! :3


**My Hunger Games Fanfictions are a mix between the movie(s), books, AND my own interpretation. So some things might not always match the specific canons and universe. I had also originally intended for this to be a one-shot, but now it's going to have two or three parts at the most. Either way, I hope you enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. :) MarvelXFoxface, slight mentions of Clato and slight GlimmerXMarvel.**

* * *

**The Fox and the Hound**

_Promises are worse than lies, because you make them hope,_

_hope for something you're not sure you can give._

* * *

The sun had already set as Marvel made his way away from the career camp. The fire, something that had been vibrant and crackling hours before, was slowly starting to fade into glowing Embers. It could still be seen by anybody passing through, given the pitch of the night. But granted that the remaining careers - Clove, Glimmer, Cato, Sapphire the District 4 girl, and the District 3 and 12 boys were guarding the area, nobody in their right mind would go near it.

It was amazing Cato had even managed to light a fire in the first place, but he did, after three hours and a variation of colorful language.

_And_ the fact that Clove managed to light a spark as he was stomping off, unknown to him at the time. Anything to get the guy to shut up!

Now, that flame was slowly fading (in more ways than one) and Marvel had volunteered to get firewood. As entertaining as it was, one usually got tired of Clove threatening to rip Cato's arm off and beat Glimmer to death with it. Sapphire pretty much stayed out of their disputes, knowing better than to risk her pretty face. District 3 and the Mellark boy were pretty useless when it came to breaking up fights, but he could handle it until Marvel got back. What choice did he have in the matter, anyway?

Small twigs and branches snapped under Marvel's boots as he made his way deeper and deeper into the woods. A moment to himself would almost be a blessing. His trusty Spear, a reliable and deadly thing he had dubbed Odysseus, was clutched around his wrist. The other tributes had questioned his weapon of choice once the blood-bath at the Cornucopia had ended. After all, there were so many enchanting swords, blades, axes, and clubs one could select. All new. But he had chosen the spear. He, himself, even questioned his weapon at first, but deep down, he knew his reasoning. He had just always been too embarrassed to tell the other careers.

Marvel secretly looked up to Finnick Odair, a past victor from District 4. The District was known for it's fishing, and the residents often used spears, tridents, and netting in their line of work. For Finnick, it made perfect sense. He, himself, used a trident. For a boy from District 1, a place known for it's fine furs and priceless jewels, it was a bit questionable. But Marvel didn't care. He owed nobody an explanation. He had his weapon. He had his hero. And _here_, you needed to hold on to whatever you could, have that small thing pulling you to get through it all, because the fact of the matter is, you probably won't go back home.

The weak could always take the easy way out. Suicide. One or two did every year. They couldn't handle it, couldn't process the stress and constant terror. Marvel always saw it as selfish. They would rather take their own life, give up like that, drain the tiny bit of remaining hope their families clung to, than stand and fight. Weaklings. You could at least die by an enemy, honorably. But Marvel was in the career pack, a group of tributes known for their strength and brute force. He didn't have to worry about falling to the weaker man. He was on top. He had been training his whole life to become so. Nothing could top him.

Except...maybe...Cato. The guy was a psychopath, Marvel had noticed that at the cornucopia. Most of the District 2 tributes usually proved particularly brutal. Clove was a likely enemy as well. True, she was smaller...but her knives were a thing of deadly beauty. Glimmer, he was sure he could handle. He would just prefer_ not_ to. And like Clove's blades, she was a thing of deadly beauty as well and could surprise you every now and then with her cruelty and her art of manipulation. (Why do you think _MARVEL_ was going to get the fire wood?)

_They're not going to turn on you,_ Marvel pressed as he dodged deeper into the dark of the night. His mind was in chaos, his thoughts eating him alive.

_Yet._

True, with the last few tributes standing in the games, more betrayal happened between the remnants. Maybe everything was just beginning to get to him, a type of expected paranoia that strikes every tribute in the heart (those who had ever denied it were obviously lying.) The careers needed to stick together, large groups could overpower a single person. Right? They wouldn't turn on each other. Not in the first few -

_What was that?_

He panicked, the spear out before him now, the tip glistening in the moonlight.

There were always those tributes who tried to use stealth. The ones who actually dared to compete with the careers. The ones who considered themselves clever. As if intelligence and speed could compete with strength and advanced weaponry! Still holding his spear, the bushes parted to reveal his enemy. A simple ground squirrel. Letting out a sigh of frustration, his spear went vertical against the ground once again and his hand was shoved in the pocket of his arena pants. It had been quiet lately. He had wanted some action.

"Fantastic." He muttered, a little disappointed.

The squirrel never moved, and sat washing it's face with it's hands, unafraid.

_It's almost cute,_ he decided, before his eyes narrowed._ I wanna kill it._

"You'll make a decent snack, at least." Marvel smirked, raising the spear and pointing it toward the tiny beast. It wasn't the Capital's rose petal soup, but still...

The small creature finally caught on, and soon darted off with Marvel in hot pursuit. The two strayed further, zigzagging between the gray and black trees. The squirrel paused in front of one in particular, then jumped and started to climb up. It only just reached the branch line as Marvel's spear missed it by a foot. It was lucky. More lucky than Marvel was at the moment. He had no food, and no way to reach his weapon. He really hadn't counted on missing. Being a man of action, he barely thought out his plans before acting on them. Thinking often led to trouble in Panem.

_Nowhere to go but up_, he figured.

He never had much experience with trees. Again, he was from the luxury district. Between the houses with their reflective glass walls and the sidewalks paved with red jewels, seeing anything of the green sort was usually a phenomenon, especially for the teenagers of the district. Although Marvel _had_ seen nature before. His father worked in one of the factories that produced wine. The entire field was surrounded by a gigantic greenhouse, and Marvel often stuck by every now and then after school and training to see his father in the vineyards, gathering grapes. It was where Marvel had inherited his hands-on attitude. His father. His strict father, who had an ideal picture of what a man and a family should be like. Who had made sure Marvel inherited those beliefs as well, no matter what he had to do. Although Marvel barely believed most of those things growing up, like how marriage had to just be between a man and a woman, how men _always _seemed superior, he had learned at a young age to keep quiet. The capital made the law for a reason. At least that's what his dad had always told him. He was extremely lucky to grow up in the district where they lived. Privileged, even.

The kids at his school had told him stories they had heard about things that happened in other districts. Lashings, beatings, horrible things over nothing. They rarely had those in District 1, mostly because everybody fell in line, and even so, Marvel had never witnessed any. The District's loyalty to the Capitol added to that lack of enforcement, as Peacekeepers tended to look the other way in exchange for bottles of wine, jewels, or sex from a desperate district woman. Eventually, one just learns to go with the flow, accept similarities and the way things had to be. It breaks a person down. Be this! Be that! If he hadn't volunteered, Marvel was expected to go to work with his dad at the winery next year when he turned eighteen. That, or any job really, and start a family soon. He wasn't looking forward to any of it.

Before the reaping, Marvel had never really talked to girls in his district. Especially not one like Glimmer. He had seen her around school, and always thought her a looker, but never had enough confidence to actually _speak_ to her. The fact that he didn't consider himself the most attractive male and slightly awkward added to that avoidance. He thought of it as a bad-ass awkward...but still. Believe it or not, they actually had social status in District 1. And Glimmer was just one of those beautiful girls that came from an extravagant family. Glimmer's parents worked with jewels, a more sought-out treasure than alcoholic beverages. (Shockingly.) His aunt on his mother's side even taught her etiquette lessons when she was younger. (His aunt was a fancy woman as well, and often looked down on his mom because she married his father, a man beneath their family. A man who actually broke a sweat for a living, a jester among royalty. His aunt rarely even came around.)

Still, he couldn't help but notice the bruises and scars Glimmer often tried to cover up on her arms with golden bracelets and long-sleeve silk shirts and wondered if it was from training or...other things. Would somebody not be proud to show battle scars? Then again...Glimmer did value her beauty. What could drive a person to intentionally hurt themselves? What could drive a parent to hurt their own flesh-and-blood? It was then he realized that maybe life wasn't so perfect and_ luxurious_ in District 1 as the other districts assumed. The worst matter was seeing Glimmer's younger sister, Goldie. Her hair was brighter than Glimmer's, like actual gold, another precious item the district was known for.

He would never tell anybody, but he knew Glimmer had cried that night they were headed to the capital. He had walked by her room on the train and heard her weeping. She had remained strong at the reaping, possibly for her sister. But the ditsy, beautiful mask that she always wore came down that night. The sharp, glittering blade that she was, had dulled. She was leaving Goldie behind, leaving her sister behind to gain those scars and bruises that _she_ had often wore under her long sleeves. Goldie. The only thing she had ever cared about more than her status. The little girl she walked to the middle school before making her own way to school. Her little sister was fourteen, old enough to start more intense training. More than old enough for the reaping. Hold your breath.

_She was weak_, Marvel pressed.

This was the way the Capital was. If she couldn't handle it, then she was no better than the other weakling tributes. But the train ride ended and her confident, sexy demeanor came back. It had to be. The gold-haired girl would be watching, and she had to be strong. Marvel himself had never had any siblings, an only child. His parents' pride and joy. He had never really wanted a little brother or sister. Honestly...he didn't even want kids. They had the tendency to hate him. Not the I'm-going-to-stab-you-in-the-face-for-the-heck-of-it kind of hate, but the you're-annoying-and-will-be-a-terrible-father kind of hate. Honestly, the stab in the face type of hatred almost seemed welcoming. Right now he just wanted to make it out of the arena alive before he thought about any life plans.

Honestly, Marvel had always found the way females in his district were treated rather confusing, a paradox. You were expected to be graceful, poise, beautiful, elegant, and able to crush a skull with your bare hands. Guys were treated better. It was no big deal if a male in the district fought or ruined his clothing, but if a female did the same outside of training, it was wrong. He couldn't help but see the differences in the districts after meeting Cato and Clove. Women were treated as equals in District 2, if not higher. Clove was a prime example of these women. Strong. Fearless. District 2 was known for weaponry and Peacekeepers. Cato himself even stated that his grandfather wanted him to become a Peacekeeper, like his older brother, and he formerly had full intention of becoming so.

What would it be like if the two guys hadn't been reaped? Would Cato have become a Peacekeeper? Better yet, what if he was assigned District 1? Would the two get along like they did in the arena? Make small-talk in the market? Marvel was the closest thing Cato ever actually had as a bromance buddy, and vice-versa. The only downside of his being intimidating was exactly that. He was intimidating. Marvel hadn't convinced Glimmer to pair with Clove and Cato because they seemed like the buddy-buddy types. The duo were animals. Rabid, starving animals. But the career loyalty had kicked in, and Marvel found Cato as an "okay" companion when he was calm. Other times, he questioned that judgement. Something had always appeared off about the District 2 duo, he knew it from the first time he and Glimmer had met them. It's like...their mentality wasn't all there. Like they would have slaughtered Glimmer and himself seconds into the blood-bath if they hadn't teamed up.

At least, for the moment, he was safe. It was a relief to know.

It became pretty clear that there was _no way_ he was getting his spear back any time soon. Sliding down the tree for the third time told him that. Sitting in the dirt now, he crossed his arms and huffed like a small child.

This _should not_ be _this difficult_.

He got up, attempting one more time. Hands gripping the rough bark, splintering against his skin, he got a quarter of the way up. Then he slid down, landing on the ground again. With his arms crossed, his face explained everything. He was done. He was _so done_.

"Well, that's _that_." He decided, slapping the wood, dust, and dirt from his hands. There was no way he was stripper dancing against the tree one more time. (Another unfortunate occupation for a few of the females in his district.) Getting up, he headed back to camp.

Few seconds passed in the area after Marvel's disappearance. Everything was quiet again. At least until he ran back through the brush, screaming an overly-dramatic battle cry, then jumped onto the side of the tree, scrambled, and slid down a final time.

He _really_ needed that_ mother freak'in SPEAR_! Especially since he really didn't want to ask Cato for his sword or machete. Not after seeing what he did to that boy at the cornucopia. That brown haired boy from the transportation district. What was his name? Cole?

Marvel had enough honor inside himself to admit defeat, and getting his weapon just wasn't happening. Maybe he could convince Clove to surrender one of her throwing knives through a bet. (She had enough of them hidden away.) But as Marvel turned to stand, something beneath a nearby bush caught his eye.

At first, he just thought it was a figment of his imagination, the tribute paranoia finally kicking in. But sure enough, it was there, sparkling in the moonlight. Something green, Emerald colored. Similar to the ring that Glimmer was determined to bring with her. She honestly hadn't known there was a spike in it. She thought it was a good luck token from her mother. (As if the woman who had tormented her into volunteering for a death match would actually give her anything sincere.)

This item was, instead, a bracelet. A bracelet made up of diamond-shaped Emerald bits. It was pretty, but probably wasn't worth much. Especially not by District 1's standards. Before Marvel had a chance to think of anything else, a large rock collided with the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. It wasn't large enough or thrown hard enough to knock him out, just stun him a little. His attacker's unfortunate misjudgement.

Marvel was at full alert now, jumping to his feet after he collapsed. He probably wasn't much of a match without his weapons. The glittery spots that danced in front of his eyes and ache in the back of his head didn't help, either. But if this was how fate wanted it to happen, then he would go down with a fight.

"Who...who are you?" He spoke, stuttering and still slightly stunned. Great. Now they thought of him as scared.

Again, the forest was silent. The faint whisper of crickets and glow of fireflies picking up where his voice trailed off. It was the exact kind of silence that never failed to piss him off.

"Who are you?" He screamed, his voice shrill this time. More silence.

His temper was rising, and there was a faint glint of blood-lust in his eye as they scanned the area, so much that he didn't see the thin framed figure move around the branches in the tree above. At least not until a pair of hands reached down and pulled his spear from the place where it was stuck.

"Hey!" He grunted, his stride quickening toward the tree.

The hands disappeared with his spear, ducking back into the branches. He stopped himself at the roots that rose above the dirt. He couldn't get too close. They had his weapon. They had the advantage. The branch shook and rustled as the thief climbed higher, unseen to Marvel's eyes. Few of the leaves that clung to the limb before, now started their descent toward the dirt. Marvel walked around the area where they had fallen, making sure to stay out of firing range.

He had never felt so helpless, not knowing which way his attacker was facing. It angered him. He hated it. It was the exact type of trick he and the others would use and he didn't like his own ideas coming back to bite him in the butt.

Like the saying goes; If you can't beat them, join them.

"What do you want?" He stated.

"The bracelet."

He jumped. He hadn't expected the other tribute to reply so quickly and so directly. The voice itself was soft, _feminine_. He hadn't recognized it as belonging to any of the other tribute girls. It was only after she had spoken did Marvel remember he was still holding the Emerald bracelet. He held it up once more, looking it over again. He smirked. _This could be fun._

"Show me your face."

It took another second, but leaves began to fall again. They paused right above his head. Slowly, one boot hung over the edge, then the other. The nest of branches and leaves parted, revealing his enemy. It _certainly_ wasn't who he expected.

The District 5 girl. The red-head, deemed Foxface, thanks to the girl from District 12. Of course he hadn't recognized her voice! She hardly said anything during the interviews.

"I guess the whole _giving-me my-spear-back-and-coming-down-so-I-can-gut-you-like-a-fish_ thing isn't going to happen. Right?"

The dry, sarcastic, look (with occasional blinking) that she gave spoke for itself.

"Didn't think so."

He held the bracelet up.

"Give me my spear, then you'll get your jewelry."

"How about I get my token first?" Her voice dripped.

"I don't think so." He smirked. "I'm not so sure your grip on that spear will be_ as tight_ when you lower it down. One wrong move and it's easily one less tribute you have to face."

"What makes you think I'll cross you?"

"What proof do I have that you won't?"

There was a pause.

"Simple._ I'm not a career_."

More silence, mostly due to Marvel's disbelief.

"Well..._that's_ a hurtful stereotype." He stated. Foxface rolled her eyes from her place on the branch.

"Just give me my token and_ I promise_ you'll get _exactly_ what you deserve."

Marvel looked at the odds (which certainly weren't in his favor at the moment). She was smart enough to know that if _he _was injured or went missing, the other tributes would be on her trail in an instant. They were nearby, and a canon fire would would only alert them, bring them running to finish her off. He could call out to them right now, but this little game of cat and mouse was just too entertaining. She was weak, she couldn't handle the other Careers by herself and he doubted she could even use his spear. She couldn't even match him in a battle, which was why she was in the tree. Her only option was the hope that Marvel would take his spear and spare her. _Not going to happen._

_"_Fine." He quipped, before tossing it up.

She barely caught it, flinching in fear that it would fall.

"Now you give me _my_ just desserts." He practically purred.

She slipped the bracelet on her wrist, taking a second to admire the glittering stones before replying.

"If you insist."

The tree was perched at the edge of a drop-off. As Marvel watched in horror, she threw his spear -his baby- over the side with a gentle flick of her wrist. It tumbled down, thirty feet and into the swelling black river, something that, more than likely, led from the lake a few miles back. In a second it was gone, swept down and and out of his sight. Forever.

The only thing he had to hold on to. The only thing reminding him of his inspiration and drive. The very thing that gave him the hope that he may return home.

And it was gone.

The raging blood-lust that had built up earlier was back, and it had skyrocketed, times three. He turned, calling her every dirty, disgusting word in his vocabulary as she scrambled higher, just out of his reach yet again. By now, the other careers had heard his yelling and their own voices echoed in the distance, calling out to him. He only ignored them.

"You'll wish you were dead by the time I'm through with you!" He snarled. And he meant it.

Foxface paused above and looked down, her boots and arms all gracing separate branches. The expression on Marvel's face was one of pure blood-lust. Originally, her plan had been to stay under the radar. But the idea of him taking her mother's bracelet caused a type of panic inside her. It had fallen off her wrist once she heard him coming. With the two or three rocks she had in her backpack (she had literally left the Cornucopia with _NOTHING_ and had to make due.) She climbed up the tree. No big deal given that she had climbed higher and more terrifying heights to work on her district's windmills. But why _THE HECK_ did she have to throw his spear over the edge of the drop-off?

_Simple. Your throat would be pinned to the side of a branch if you didn't, _her inner bully challenged.

She gazed down again, soaking in Marvel's expression. In the distance, she could hear the other tributes approaching. They were closer now, hardly a few feet.

"Hey, I did say I'd give you exactly what you deserved. Right?" She gloated. She never gloated. Not unless she knew she could get away with it, and the higher she climbed, the less likely they were to get her.

Standing on a single branch now, she made her way to another. That's when it gave under her weight. The next thing Foxface knew, she was falling. Her arm shot out in an attempt to save herself, only to collide with it. Pain quickly spiked her wrist. Being so close to the edge, she figured she would eventually end up in the same place as Marvel's spear. The river. That would be how it ended, she would fall to her death or freeze from hypothermia. Compared to falling to the hand of the careers (who she knew would each have their hand in her mutilation before they decided to finally end her), it seemed like a peaceful way to die. But fate, much like the Hunger Games themselves, always had a dark sense of humor. When she opened her eyes, expecting to see the sky as she made her way toward the water, she saw the forest. Looking down, she realized her feet weren't touching the ground.

She was flying.

No.

Her jacket was caught on a branch above, suspending her in mid-air.

Marvel saw this as prime opportunity. He stalked up, his wrist tightening around her neck and shoving her against the tree. His strength was enough to loosen her jacket from it's captive. If only she could escape her own.

_How?_ Foxface moaned. How could she have miscalculated her weight and the support of the limb? She was usually so good with those types of things.

The evil had returned to Marvel's eyes, and they never took their gaze off of her, even when the other Careers appeared. Foxface took note that it was only Glimmer, Clove, Cato, and Sapphire that had come to his aid. Mellark and the District 3 boy, a kid named Glitch, had stayed behind to guard the camp.

"Look what I have guys." Marvel smirked, taking his eyes off of her for the first time and turning to his team. "I caught a fox."

The others looked pleased. And eager. Who would get to gut her first?

"I don't remember this fox talking." Clove noted, drawing a blade. "Wouldn't hurt to carve a few words into her skin..."

"We've talked about this." Cato asserted. "When the time comes, you get Katniss. I lead this little pack, I think I should have the honor of scalping her little red neck from her body."

"You've gotten the most kills! I haven't had any!" Sapphire protested, her fiery temper showing yet again.

They had come to know the District 4 girl as a type of seductress, similar to Glimmer. Only Glimmer's temper was nowhere near as intense as her's. Spiteful and cruel, yes. Bratty when she didn't get what she wanted, no. Glimmer was too elegant to stoop to the girl's level and her hormones were no where near as raging. What was to be expected from a girl her worked up to her knees in mud and sand everyday, searching for sea-life?

"She's mine."

As if on que, the Careers froze and looked to Marvel. The bluntness in his voice, the cruelty of his words, it was something that was so unlike the sarcastic guy they had been introduced to over the past week and a half.

"Give me your blade, Glimmer." He stated.

Glimmer's eyes drifted down to the blade that hung from her waist. Slowly, she slid it from the holster. But...why did he -

"_HURRY UP_." He pressed.

With her legs shaking, she jolted forward on impulse, then slowed down, the blade held out in front of her. He held his hand out, expectantly, as he stared the red-head down. Tears were now running down the sides of her face. As soon as Glimmer was close enough, he snatched the blade from her.

If it had been any of the other Careers and another tribute, Glimmer gladly would have backed up and allowed the duo to continue, if not to avoid the sprays of blood. But something about Marvel...the way he looked, how hungry he seemed for a kill...it wasn't him. It wasn't the same boy she had seen from time to time at school. The same boy she had seen peeking from the stairs of his aunt's house. Her blue eyes gazed him over as he grabbed the girl by her hair, dragging her from her place against the tree and in front of the drop-off, so that everybody could see his prize as she cried out and kicked like a trapped deer.

"Let this be known to everybody right now." He stated, pointing the silver of the blade toward his team, addressing them. "This is proof that I'm not a joke."

The blade raised above his head, the terrified girl's tears falling in sheets now. By now; Cato, Clove, and Sapphire were calling out. Telling him to "Kill her already." Glimmer was silent, nervously stroking her neck and hair, the same way she always did when something made her upset. This...thing. It wasn't Marvel. The Capitol and District 1 were, no doubt, eating this up.

But something happened in that moment that Glimmer couldn't quite explain. Just as Marvel was about to bring the blade down on Foxface's neck, he was suddenly falling backwards, his grip still on her and dragging her with him. He had been standing right at the edge, and the ground was still soggy from the rain a night or two before. It was as if it all happened in slow motion. Glimmer's blade went flying behind Marvel, and their forms started to disappear. Finally, Glimmer's brain snapped into adrenaline, but it was to late. Marvel and Foxface had gone over.

She called out his name and was the first to reach the edge on her knees as the others came bounding behind her. She was the only one who had seen them hit the water, disappear under the restless waves.

"_MARVEL_!" She shrieked, her voice frantic. "_MARVEL_!"

Cato and Clove grabbed her shoulders, doing the best that they could to get her away from the edge. The last thing they needed was for her to fall over. Sapphire merely stood there in disbelief. At that moment, Glimmer couldn't care less about any of them. she would give up anything - her looks, her fortune, her status - just to get Marvel back. Anything!

This is the second person she would be losing to the games...

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
